


If You Wanna Go

by plaidcest



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, wincest first kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 02:51:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidcest/pseuds/plaidcest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dad’s always liked Dean better when it came to hunting. Dean was Dad’s little soldier boy and Sam was the tag-along. More often than not Dad would take Dean and leave Sam behind at the motel till they’d killed whatever monster and then they’d come back.</p><p>Sam’s been having nightmares of Dean dying on one of these hunts, but he doesn’t tell Dean or Dad that. Instead Sam begs Dean to stay behind with him.</p><p>Sam’s most compelling statement turns out to be quite the arguement winner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Wanna Go

 

 

Sam watched silently as Dean dug through his duffle bag across the room.

 

Sam had his back against the headboard and his arms resting on top of his knees that were pulled to his chest.

 

Dad was out with the Impala, getting ready for a hunt, and Dean was getting ready to go with him.

 

The last hunt Sam had been on with the two of them hadn't ended well for him. He'd nearly been killed. Dad, apparently, felt he needed a few weeks to recuperate. In reality Sam figures Dad was tired of dragging his ass into dangerous situations and having him almost die each time.

 

Sam was a liability and he was getting in the way. He'd been confined to their motel rooms while Dad took Dean out.

 

Sam sighed as he readjusted where his chin was sitting on his arm. Dean looked up at the sound and gave Sam a sympathetic smile.

 

"It won't be long till you join the team again, Sammy. I know you gotta be bored as hell all holed up in here."

 

Sam shook his head; he actually wasn't missing the hunt. He was missing Dean.

 

"I'm not that bored, and I'm fine sitting out of a hunt. I just keep making things harder on Dad and you when I am in a hunt."

 

Dean slipped a gun into the back of his jeans and walked over to Sam's bed, he sat down with his legs over the edge but his torso facing Sam and Sam looked up from his feet.

 

"Come on now, you’re a really good hunter, Sammy! Even better than me sometimes with how calm and level headed you are."

 

Sam shook his head. He never felt like a good hunter. He didn't want to be a good hunter; he wanted to be a normal kid.

 

"You're the good hunter, Dean. I'm the nerdy kid who wants to be normal. Dad's disappointed in me almost all the time and you know it. If he could drop me off somewhere and go hunting with you for the rest of his life he would."

 

Dean frowned.

 

"He wouldn't do that to ya, he's Dad. Sure he can be a hard-ass sometimes but he loves us. We're his sons."

 

"Doesn't feel like he loves me." Sam muttered, unfurling and rolling to the opposite side of the bed from where his brother was sitting. Sam's tempted to tell Dean he really doesn't care if Dad loves him or not because the only one that matters is Dean but Sam still wishes Dad could show a little compassion.

 

Dean looked like he wanted to say something more but he was interrupted by Dad.

 

"DEAN! I'M LEAVING."

 

"COMING SIR."

 

Sam watched with sad eyes as Dean stood up and headed for the door. He turned around a few steps away and quickly walked over to Sam's side.

 

"Dad does love you, Sammy. And if that's not enough for you then just know I love you too."

 

Dean pulled Sam into a hug and Sam felt a light flutter of pressure on his temple. The next second Dean's leather clad back was slipping out the door.

 

The door shut with a light click and Sam automatically got up to lock it. Sam watched from the window as Dean got in the Impala with Dad and they drove off with a roar of the engine and a squealing of tires on the tarmac.

 

Dean's words echoed in his head.

 

"Just know that I love you too."

 

Dean had never told him he loved him. Dean also hadn't hugged him in four years, not since Sam was eight.

 

He couldn't keep the grin off his face as he walked around the room, checking the salt lines around the windows as he had been told to since the first day of his confinement.

 

\- o -

 

It'd been two days.

 

Two days of painstaking waiting and worrying.

 

Sam was lying in bed, over the blankets, eagle spread and all he could think about was when Dean would come back.

 

He could never sleep too well whenever Dean was gone. Living in such close quarters, the impala, the motels, it had given Sam perfect and plentiful access to the lullaby that was Dean Winchester's breathing and now any second without it is a second of restless twitching and bloodshot eyes.

 

Sam figured he probably looked like hell reincarnate, he snorts at that thought, but he can’t find it in himself to get up and head into the shower. How is he supposed to act like his gut isn’t crawling inside itself with this feeling like something is about to go terribly, terribly wrong.

 

The feeling had swooped in about an hour ago and it was growing steadily in his gut by the minute. It was almost painful now and Sam just couldn’t take it anymore. He reached over to the side table and picked up the motel phone, dialing the number he knew by heart.

 

One ring.

 

Two rings.

 

Three rings.

 

“Hey”

 

“Dean! Hey, it’s Sam where---”

 

“You’ve reached the amazing Dean Winchester; I’ll get back to ya as soon as I can so be sure to leave a message.”

 

A dial tone sounds and Sam hangs up after five seconds of silence. This is not good. Dean ALWAYS answers his phone; Sam’s actually never heard Dean’s voicemail.

 

Sam’s body launches itself off the bed, and two minutes later he finds himself fully dressed with a gun in one coat pocket, salt, gasoline, and matches in another and a grim look on his face. He vaguely remembers where Dad and Dean were headed and so it’s with a heavy heart that he leaves the sanctuary of boredom and heads into the dark motel parking lot.

 

There are a few cars to choose from, and Sam’s never really been into cars so he doesn’t know which one will be the fastest but he chooses a relatively new Chevy truck with the doors naively left unlocked. Sam hops into the seat, his gangly legs just making the stretch the pedals, and he gives a short, quiet victory noise at the fact that the keys are also in the ignition.

 

In the next moments Sam is traveling down the empty highway at 100mph and the feeling in his gut is growing. It’s snaking like vines through his muscles and he’s definitely going to be sore tomorrow just from the tension in his shoulders. His eyes watch the road signs as they pass by with incredible speed and he makes a sharp left turn as a particular name rings through his mind. He drives down the side road until he reaches a small town. He sees the impala parked in the corner of a gas station parking lot, hiding away in the shadows, and he slows down.

 

No one’s sitting inside.

 

Sam turns the truck into the parking lot and parks it beside the Impala. He digs around in the trunk, grabbing some gear based on gut feeling. He never heard Dad explain what they were hunting but he figured some silver bullets, some rock salt bullets, and a few knives and some salt were decent enough.

 

He walked around to the front of the Impala, brushing his hand over the hood of the car; it was warm to the touch. Not as warm as it would have been if it was just stopped, but warm enough that Sam knew they couldn’t be far. There was a forest behind the Impala and Sam could pick out a small path through the branches of some bushes.

 

It almost seemed too easy, but Sam didn’t have time to think about his suspicions or about traps; the feeling was growing.

 

He ran through the trees, careful to not hit any branches or step in spots with too many leaves or debris. The path was relatively clear and worn into the ground and it was easy to navigate in the moonlight. He kept his breathing as even as he could, though his pounding heart in his chest wasn’t helping.

 

He was running, looking straight forward, when it hit him.

 

“YOU STAY AWAY FROM HIM YOU BASTARD!”

 

That was Dean’s voice. That was Dean’s frantic, panicking voice. Sam had never heard that tone from Dean before. He picked up speed as much as his twelve-year old legs could speed up and turned a corner on the path. Right there was an old house, the windows lit up. Sam skidded to a halt beside the nearest window, peaking in through the dusty glass and trying to calm his heart and breathing. He wasn’t going to be any help if he was caught.

 

His eyes flickered around, trying to pick up details through the dirty window. It looked like an old house, one room split into a kitchen, eating area, and bedroom all in one. In the middle of the room there was Dean sitting in a chair, bloodied and seething. There was a lump on the floor and Sam realized with a start that it was John, Dad.

 

Dean was breathing angrily through his teeth, his lip split and his right side coated in blood and grit. His head was lashing from side to side as he fought his restraints and tried to keep a watch out for whatever evil creature was in the house.

 

“LET ME GO, GOD DAMNIT. SCARED A SIXTEEN YEAR OLD IS GOING TO KICK YOUR ASS?!”

 

 _‘Stop baiting it Dean!’_ Sam wants to yell but he keeps quiet as he sneaks around the side of the house to the front door. It’s splayed open, the doorknob hanging onto the wood just barely. Apparently they’d kicked the door in. Sam slipped in, squatting down and hiding behind the couch.

 

There was a dark laugh.

 

“You’re all talk, Winchester. That’s all any of you are. Besides, it’s not you I want... Not really. You’re unimportant. Its little Samuel that I need and after I’m done with you and Daddy Dearest then I’m off to the dingy motel you’ve kept him waiting in. He’s completely oblivious.”

 

Sam’s heart is pounding in his chest, how can they not hear it? It seems so loud in Sam’s ears...

 

“You leave Sammy alone! I’ll fucking beat your head in!”

 

“Wouldn’t do you much good I’m afraid.... But I think we’ll have to teach you some proper manners.”

 

There’s a thick sound, like flesh being ripped open and it’s accompanied by a hoarse scream. Sam’s heart snaps but he doesn’t move, he’s not close enough. He’s not a good enough shot to kill something from this far away. There’s another ripping sound and Sam tries not to gag. He can clearly see Dean’s skin in his mind being ripped open in jagged wounds.

 

“Y’know. If you hadn’t come along, Dean them maybe your Daddy coulda killed me. He had to look out for you though, you weren’t on your best performance. Worried about little Samuel?  It cost you and Daddy your lives.”

 

Sam peaks around the edge of the couch, his head close to the floor. It looks like a person, just a simple person, but its black eyes are shining in the dim light from the single flickering bulb in the roof and Sam knows the most he’s going to be able to do is shoot it and make it go away for a little bit but it’ll be back and it’ll be angry.

 

There’s blood pooling on the floor now underneath Dean’s chair and around Dad. Dean’s breathing is labored but not from anger, from pain. The demon goes to make another move, rip more holes in his tattered brother and Sam cocks the gun and shoots over the back of the couch.

 

The first shot misses, but now the demon is looking over at Sam with interest. It starts to take a step and Sam shoots again, this one hitting its arm. A non-substantial wound.

 

“Nice try there, Samuel but I guess you need a bit more practice, huh?”

 

Dean’s head had snapped up at the first shot and now he’s looking over at Sam with desperate eyes. ‘Run!’ he mouths and Sam shakes his head ‘No.’

 

“I have to say, you’re younger than I thought you’d be. No matter, I’m sure your training will take a few years.”

 

“What?”

 

Sam’s confused. The demon grins.

 

“All in due time, Samuel. All in due time.”

 

“My name is Sam.”  Sam shoots the gun again and nails the demon right in the middle of the forehead, it simply smiles as its host body’s blood dribbles down from the hole in its forehead. Sam’s confused, it should’ve left the body. It should be gone and searching for another one.

 

“And you’ll learn my name at a later date. Now. Since I don’t have to go searching for you, I’m just going to tie up a few loose ends.”

 

Before Sam can shoot another bullet the demon turns and the knife in its grip glints in Sam’s vision.

 

Time slows and Sam watches frozen in place as the blade zooms towards Dean. Dean’s eyes stay on Sam, fierce and hard and Sam can see all the emotion his brother is trying to hide in that millisecond glance; despair, pain, love, strength.

 

The knife slashes clean through Dean’s throat, Sam’s heart ringing in his ears and blocking out the gory sound. Blood pours heavily from the wound and Dean chokes on it, his eyes still holding Sam’s as the color slowly dulls from them. The demon’s laughing, John’s beginning to move from where he lays on the floor, and Sam wishes he were dead instead of Dean.

 

This wasn’t fair. Dean was a better hunter than he was. Dad likes Dean better anyways. The only one who really liked Sam was Dean and that was just because Sam was the little brother.

 

Heart wrenching sobs are echoing in Sam’s ears as the ringing begins to fade and it takes a second for him to realize that those animalistic sounds are coming from his own chest. John sits up, the demon is no where in sight, and he sees his eldest son tied to a wooden chair with a gash across his throat and a lake of blood spilled over every square inch of his sixteen year old self.

 

“Dean…”

 

John’s hand flies to his head, a nasty gash and lump forming there and John’s eyes flicker to see Sam. He sees the gun in Sam’s hand and suddenly he’s sneering at Sam.

 

“Couldn’t pull the trigger, Sam? Couldn’t save your brother? What kind of a hunter are you? DEAN’S DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU---”

 

Sam’s world starts shaking, whether it’s the ground or his knees has yet to be decided but the shaking gets worse. A new buzzing is taking over his ears, he can no longer hear John’s screams.

 

“Sammy…”

 

Funny. That sounds like Dean.

 

“Sammy wake up.”

 

Sam frowns and his head pounds, his hand flies up to his temple. Dean’s not making any sense.

 

“Sammy you’re having a nightmare…”

 

Sam’s eyes flash open and the first thing he can see is green, green, and more green. Dean.

 

Without thinking about it Sam’s arms lash out and latch around Dean’s neck, Dean’s perfectly fine and unharmed neck. Sam’s chest is shaking and he realizes he was probably crying in his sleep again.

 

“It was just a dream, Sammy. Shh. I’m right here. You’re okay.”

 

Dean’s words sooth his racing heart a little, but the feeling in his gut is telling him otherwise. It’s not the first dream he’s had about Dean dying. This one felt so real though, and his head doesn’t usually hurt this much after the dreams.

 

“Don’t go with Dad tomorrow. Please Dean.”

 

“Another one of those nightmares, huh? I’m sorry Sammy but I have to go with Dad, you know how it is. I’ll be fine.”

 

Sam wants to protest but then Dean’s plopping down beside him on the bed, careful not to wake John in the next bed over, and wrapping his arms around Sam.

 

“Dean, you don’t understand.” An image of Dean choking on his own blood flashes through his mind.

 

“Shh. Just sleep.”

 

Against Sam’s better judgment, his body obeys the command and he’s out like a light in the next few seconds.

 

\- o -

 

Sam watched silently as Dean dug through his duffle bag across the room.

 

Sam had his back against the headboard and his arms resting on top of his knees that were pulled to his chest.

 

Dad was out with the Impala, getting ready for a hunt, and Dean was getting ready to go with him.

 

The last hunt Sam had been on with the two of them hadn't ended well for him. He'd nearly been killed. Dad, apparently, felt he needed a few weeks to recuperate. In reality Sam figures Dad was tired of dragging his ass into dangerous situations and having him almost die each time.

 

Sam was a liability and he was getting in the way. He'd been confined to their motel rooms while Dad took Dean out.

 

Sam sighed as he readjusted where his chin was sitting on his arm. Dean looked up at the sound and gave Sam a sympathetic smile.

 

"It won't be long till you join the team again, Sammy. I know you gotta be bored as hell all holed up in here."

 

Sam shook his head; he actually wasn't missing the hunt. He was missing Dean.

 

"I'm not that bored, and I'm fine sitting out of a hunt. I just keep making things harder on Dad and you when I am in a hunt. Are you sure you can’t sit this one out though Dean? Something doesn’t feel right…”

 

Dean slipped a gun into the back of his jeans and walked over to Sam's bed, he sat down with his legs over the edge but his torso facing Sam and Sam looked up from his feet.

 

"Come on now, you’re a really good hunter, even better than me sometimes with how calm and level headed you are and no I don’t think I can. They’re just dreams Sammy.”

 

Sam shook his head. He never felt like a good hunter. He didn't want to be a good hunter; he wanted to be a normal kid and these dreams sure as hell didn’t feel normal. His head was still pounding.

 

"You're the good hunter, Dean. I'm the nerdy kid who wants to be normal. Dad's disappointed in me almost all the time and you know it. If he could drop me off somewhere and go hunting with you for the rest of his life he would. Besides, they don’t feel like just dreams.”

 

Dean frowned.

 

"He wouldn't do that to ya, he's Dad. Sure he can be a hard-ass sometimes but he loves us. We're his sons.”

 

"Doesn't feel like he loves me." Sam muttered, unfurling and rolling to the opposite side of the bed from where his brother was sitting. Sam's tempted to tell Dean he really doesn't care if Dad loves him or not because the only one that matters is Dean but Sam still wishes Dad could show a little compassion.

 

Dean looked like he wanted to say something more but he was interrupted by Dad.

 

"DEAN! I'M LEAVING."

 

Sam’s heart picks up double time and he looks up at Dean with wide and scared eyes. He launches himself onto Dean’s lap and tucks his head into the crook of Dean’s neck.

 

“Don’t go Dean _! Please!_ I can feel it, something will go wrong if you leave.” Sam’s voice is desperate, the need raw in his throat and he pulls away to look into his brother’s eyes. Dean seems indecisive so Sam does the first thing that doesn’t come to mind.

 

Sam leans down and kisses him.

 

It’s not an  amazing kiss, but Sam can feel butterflies exploding in his belly. He’s kissing Dean. He’s kissing his sixteen year old brother and just… wow.

 

Sam tries to convey all his desperation and need, all the protectiveness and love. At first it’s simply Sam’s lips pressing against Dean’s, but in less than a few seconds Dean’s kissing him back.

 

Dean’s fingers thread into Sam’s hair, Sam leans into the touch and Dean lies back onto the bed, pulling Sam down on top of him. It’s all too soon that Sam needs to pull away for air.

 

“Stay. Please.”

 

“… Okay.”

  

Sam’s heart stops. Did Dean just… Did he agree to stay out of a hunt?

 

Dean sits up and pushes Sam off his lap and onto the bed and hold up, didn’t Dean say he wasn’t going to join Dad?

 

“Let me just go tell Dad, I’ll literally be right back. Okay Sammy?”

 

Sam slowly nods, not at all too sure that Dean’s not going to make a run for it. Dean’s never given up a hunt this easily ever and although Dean did kiss him back Sam’s pretty sure that kissing your brother and liking it isn’t really a good thing to be doing. However, it seemed to have won over the argument.

 

Dean leans down and places a chaste kiss to Sam’s lips before he darts out the door. It’s less than two minutes later when he comes back in and locks the door. He kicks off his shoes and crawls into the bed beside Sam. Dean pulls him into a cuddle and plants kisses on Sam’s temple.

 

“I didn’t think you’d stay.” Sam finally mumbles after they listen to the Impala peel out of the driveway. Sam plays with the collar of Dean’s shirt as he’s speaking. Not daring to glance up into his older brother’s bright green eyes.

 

“I’d do anything for you Sammy. And if you’re gut is telling you something was going to go wrong then I believe you… I love you y’know?”

 

Sam cracks a small grin and tries to merge himself closer to Dean. Sam wonders briefly if it’s possible to cuddle someone so tightly that two people just become one person. He wonders if that’ll happen with him and Dean.

 

“I love you too Dean… Thanks.”

 

Dean places a quick kiss to Sam’s nose in answer.


End file.
